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SONGS AND SEA VOICES 



SONGS AND SEA VOICES 



BY 



JAMES STEWART DOUBLEDAY 

i 




NEW YORK 

WASHINGTON SQUARE BOOK SHOP 

1918 






Copyright, 1918, by 
Washington Square Book Shop 



APR 12 1918 



VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY 

6IN3HAMTON AND NEW YORK 



©CU494550 



Ho the magic mists ! 
Ho the spacious sea! 
Ho the sovereign ships 
Sailing white and free! 



CONTENTS 

SONGS AND SEA VOICES 

PAGE 

O White Ship 13 

Outward 14 

A Bacchanal 15 

Breakers 17 

Flight 18 

A Shore Lyric 20 

Shore-Piece 21 

The Shell 22 

Sunrise 23 

Song 24 

An April Lyric 25 

Lines Written in a Wood 26 

Aloof 28 

On the Death of a Young Girl 29 

To a Rivulet 31 

The Winds of Spring 33 

April 35 

My Boy . . 37 

The Magic Moment 39 

A Cry of Mercury 41 

Venetian 43 

Lay of the Mist 45 

Petals 46 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Shore Tones 47 

Refrain 48 

The Tide Bell 49 

Vigil 50 

The Shoals 51 

To the Sea ' 52 

Wintry Shore 54 

Sanctuary 55 

A Prelude 56 

The Song 57 

From an Orchard 58 

Nocturn 59 

Recognition 60 

Presence 61 

SONGS OF A SUMMER DEPARTED 

Go 65 

Solitude 66 

Leaves 68 

Summer 69 

Autumn 70 

Village Scene .71 

My Autumn Song 72 

Apart 7S 

Song of Twilight 74 

Refuge 75 

To the Earth 76 

Love Over Life 77 

Love Over Death 78 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Love Beyond Hope 79 

Message 80 

Home 81 

The Distant One 82 

Katwik Sands 88 

Schelde Banks 84 

I Saw the Day 85 

Alone 86 

The Lake of the Sea 87 

Thou Who Createst 89 

To a Young Woman Singing ....... 90 

Night Piece 91 

Stars 92 

WAR VERSES 

The Belgian Woman's Prayer 95 

The Zep and the Aero 96 

The Appeal of Satan 100 

The Man 103 

Kitchener 105 



SONGS AND SEA VOICES 



O WHITE SHIP 

O white ship on the sea, 
Sail outward to the Nore! 

The time will come when thou 
Shalt grace the main no more, 

The time will come when thou 
Shalt fade from waters green 

With all thy bravery 

Of swelling sails asheen. 

A tall ship in her pride, 

A white ship on the sea, 
Hath always been, I swear, 

A living thing to me ! 

One of the things we prize 
And seek and seldom find, 

Or finding, ere we know, 
'Tis gone upon the wind. 



13 



OUTWARD 

Outward! on the prow 
Sovran-souled I stand, 
Freedom on my brow, 
Fortune to my hand. 

The defiant sea, 
Winter-gnarled with foam 
Has a psalm for me, 
Yea, a psalm from home! 

My forefathers gaunt 
Knew the wander-flame, 
Well they wist the haunt 
Where no hearts grow tame. 

Where the storm-sun sets 
Ghostly shrouds at night, 
While the sea-hawk jets 
'Cross the coppery light ; 

Where the deep joins heaven, 
Where a man meets man, 
And green waves have striven 
Since the world began. 



14 



A BACCHANAL 

Let elden poets praise the bowl, 

Mine be the wild-voiced sea ; 
The orgies of his mighty soul 

Are wine enow for me. 
The west'ring sun shall tint the wave, 

The wind made merry foam; 
While hoary billows rollicking 
With stony bumpers, rise and sing 

To Neptune-broods at home. 

A beaker of yon briny draught! 

No gentler be my choice ; 
I yearn what potion gods have quafft 

To gain immortal voice. 
His horn may any mortal bowse 

And jovial notes inform; 
But few can stand in Poet's House 
And with the thund'rous sea carouse 

To music of the storm. 

In tankards of ennobling mirth 
I pledge with purple brim, 

Who hath no soul for sordid earth, 
But joins my tidal hymn. 

If every loftier spirit stood 
In high tempestuous band, 

To drink deep of heroic mood, — 

15 



A BACCHANAL 

Beneficent for them, and good 
For men of every land. 

'Tis gone — but O fierce God afar, 

Victorious and great ! 
Let me not lightly wage my war 

Nor fearful ply my fate : 
Grant I may never less defy 

Than now — where thunders creep — 
Where lightning sears the northern sky, 
And storm-clouds scour silently 

Above the vanquished deep. 



16 



BREAKERS 

First the lilt, first the battle din, 

The trumpet, the plunge of the billow, the anger, 

the rush ; 
The unchained forces of utmost Saladin; 
Then the hush, the white hush, 
O the hush! 

Then an ominous whisper, a call, 

Renewed sounds of onset, rage fuming on rage, 

blow on blow; 
Tempest-gored: then the hush as before; O 'tis 

all 
That we know — ebb and flow — 
All we know. 



IT 



FLIGHT 

Mark ye the swift 
Over the rift 
Of the breakers ! 
Watch the lone swallow 
Over the fallow 
Rustling the mallow — 
Lord of his acres. 

Oh to outlif t 
My spirit and follow, 
And wing the gay seas, 
And fringe the gay leas, 

And glide like the wind over mountain and hol- 
low, 
And hover the deep as I cover the shallow, 
And fly to the Far 
In the smoothness of life, 
With no more of strife 
Than I see in a star 
As it rises and falls 
Or glimmers. 

And ah! 

Swift, away, the sea calls ! 

Swallow, lone swallow — the morn-barley shim- 
mers — 
Go fleeting, fly joyous o'er meadows and moors, 
I would be alone. 

18 



FLIGHT 

I would be alone. 

In a motion my own, 

To wing my own flight, my heavenward tours ; 

'Tis naught ye have known, 

But something God-grown, 

Full princely — 

And calmer and swifter — sublimer than Yours. 



19 



A SHORE LYRIC 

O light and laughing Alice — 
If thou wilt be my bride, 
My hut shall seem a palace 
Our fief the dun waves wide. 

Flowers shall trim our porches, 
And birds make merry din; 
Young blue-eyed boys with torches 
At eve will light thee in. 

By dawn we shall be sailing 
Over the odorous sea — 
'Tis a mystical joy unfailing 
The fisher's life so free. 

Then lean thou soft on my shoulder 
And let me scarf thee well — 
The nights are growing colder 
And sighs the northern swell. 



20 



SHORE-PIECE 

I met a lonely fisher girl 

Upon her father's duty; 
She wore a necklace of strange pearl, 

Her eyes were sad with beauty. 

frail delusive girl, my fears 
Mingle with hopes about thee; 

1 know not how thro' all these years 

Heart has felt joy without thee. 

Yet is an unknown longing stilled — 
Fair is thy form, thy motion, 

I walk like one with dreams fulfilled 
Beside the swelling ocean. 



21 



THE SHELL 

I have a shell, a sea-shell in my pocket, 

It might be rimmed with gold — made a love 

locket — 
Or anything of jewellery fine 
If so be I might sell this heart of mine. 

Eut as it is, sleep, sleep my little shell 

My fair frail thing where every fall and swell 

Of her delighting bosom is portrayed 

In thy soft purring, sleep, be not afraid. 



22 



SUNRISE 

My soul is standing on the shadowy brink 
Of some great thought, my heart undying glows 
With one great love; and like the glorious sun, 
Silently from the night-time of the past, 
Rises my Life. 



23 



SONG 

Lull me winds, and thou blest stream 
Softly ply thy sylvan voice; 
For here my love would stray by choice 
And here I used to watch and dream. 

How slender was her form in white, 
Her soul, how tranquil shining through, 
And every step she made was true 
As the step a star takes in the night. 



24 



AN APRIL LYRIC 

Oh, I would be the priest of spring, 

To say a mass for everything 

That sings and wings and blooms and sprays- 

And bless them to the end of days. 

Now Nature laugheth like a child, 
And over all — so mute, so mild — 
My soul like a protecting sky 
Offers her balm of sympathy. 

I feel that I could die for them, 
These birds, these flowers on dewy stem, 
And the green lives multitudinous 
As the brooding Spirit died for us. 



25 



LINES WRITTEN IN A WOOD 

When I am gone, let first resound 

The organ's knell by Gothic glass ; 
And let, by melancholy mound 

The gloom cortege of mourners pass. 
Then all of sweet that ever was 

In the fresh dewy world I love, 
The flocks, the flowers, the silent grass, — 

Let them press round about my bed and joy- 
ful prove. 

When pipings from the leafy burn 

By genial satyr lonely played, 
With something of a soulful turn 

Inspire the solitary shade ; 
Or when from distant pasture glade 

Issues the calm of bleating herds, 
Or when the gold light 'gins to fade 

And eve wakes silvery with twinkling notes of 
birds ; 



Then low my heart shall he in nest 
As it lies in the wild grove here ; 

I cannot fancy heaven's rest 

More perfect and more fruitful clear, 

I cannot vision spot more dear, 

More blissful for the wandering one — 



26 



LINES WRITTEN IN A WOOD 

A holier urn for the last tear 

Than this retreat where all my toil on earth 
seems done. 



27 



ALOOF 

The earth is so fair, so fair, 

And my spirit so deeply laden, 

I look on thy sunlit hair 

And bless thee, lone guileless maiden ! 

O thou art a beauty, a dawn, 

A new life but lately risen! 

And I a mute spirit soon gone 

To the deep of my outerworld prison. 

O stay thou afar, afar! 
And thy voice let it songless linger; 
Thy brow is the haunt of a star 
Writ by a seraph's finger; 

Which soon would lessen and fade 
And set, if I ventured nigher 
In silence I love thee and shade, 
In delight that is dreaming desire. 



28 



ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG 
GIRL 

If any radiant soul ascends 

To fields more fair and green 

And bathes in beauty that transcends, 

It must be so with Jean. 

Scarce did I know her, yet I knew 
Her voice, that grave sweet tone 
Which womanhood bestows like dew 
On children all her own. 

No elfin life in covert dim, 

No bird or startled fawn 

Could dart or dance with lighter limb 

Than this girl that is gone. 

Her hair possessed the morning sheen 
Of pathways fair and strange 
'Mid russet woods where rain hath been 
And sunbeams interchange. 

How shall we grant her, how return 
This fledgling to the fold? 
How yield this lamb, — mine eyelids burn, 
I quiver and grow cold. 

The winter has been loth to bless, 
Spring comes with lights of yore, 
29 



THE DEATH OF A YOUNG GIRL 

But O it comes with one flower less, 
Though many thousands more. 

Spring comes without her, without one 
Of spring the seemliest part ; 
O blades of grass, O spears of sun, 
Ye stab me to the heart ! 



30 



TO A RIVULET 

Clear water, clear water, 
Let me plash thee and drink thee 
And plunge my arms in thee, 
O fresh delight! 

Here, in thy native woodland, 
'Mid branches all rainy, 
Thou springest from thy pebbles 
Purling so blithely. 

The birds catch music from thee, 
The reeds bow down before thee, 
Thou givest the flowers life 
And my heart lightness. 

Clear water, clear water, 

In this hard uncompromising world 

How blest art thou to wend thy simple way, 

Purling so blithely. 

Let it not be the least among thy glories, 
That thou, silvering gently the green meadow, 
Hast fallen like water of life upon my brow 
And made it fertile. 



31 



TO A RIVULET 

Let it not be the least among thy glories, 

That thou, with thy meek plainsong 'mong the 

rushes, 
Waterest with melody 
My heart roots. 



32 



THE WINDS OF SPRING 

The winds are sighing — the winds of spring, 
They sing of beauty, but beauty has sting, 

Ah me for the sighing and singing! 
The flowers may flaunt and the young bees hum 
And birds make merry where snows lay dumb, 
But the love I long for never can come, 

Never more can be bringing 
No, 

Never more can be bringing. 



Once I was young — my young life's gone, 
Noontide is whelming the sands of dawn, 

And I must be turning and fleeing; 
The hope is departing that seemed so nigh, 
The clear stream is clouded that ran sweet by, 
My mortal craves immortality, 

And I would be waking and seeing, 
Yes. 

I would be waking and seeing. 



We roamed together the fragrant fields 
And drank the delight all new life yields 

Exulting in every blossom. 
But heart has been wounded, flower and weed 
Alike seem to bend in a travailing need, 
Of sorrow and blight God sprinkles the seed 



33 



THE WINDS OF SPRING 

In every living bosom. 

Yes, 
In every living bosom. 



34 



APRIL 

Lissom April art thou come — 
Come and gone so sweet and soon? 
I did scarce espy thee tripping 
On the rain-grass 'neath the moon, 
Scarcely felt thy flower breathings 
Hue my cheek in the wet noon. 



One eve as I wandered lonely 
By the fallows and the brake, 
A solitary bluebird's note 
Filled my ear like a snowflake. 
O nimble Beauty! Spring! I cried, 
Can it be thou art awake? 



Then I hastened to the water 
Glist'ning out to the wide sea 
Where a filmy distant haze 
Hung like phantom porphyry ; 
And the colour turned to longing, 
The longing to melody. 

Fair the tones — ay me, before them 
Swooned the silvery breezes stark, 
Night fell and the melting music 



35 



APRIL 

Vanished among tideways dark, 
But my longing lived and lightened, 
Failed and heightened like a spark. 



36 



MY BOY 

My Boy is plucking flowers ; 

It is the fairest thing, 

A soft delight like music, 

To watch him in the spring. 

He bends him over with such grace, 

His face is such a glowing face, 

I cannot name the rain-fresh joy 

To liken to my slender boy. 

No dew can fall so lightly, 

No bluebird nimbly troll, 

But that his eyes, exulting, 

Betray their very soul. 

The April's with him always kind 

The May -time doth his temples bind, 

The long June twilight and her brood 

Wrap him in dreams and quietude. 

Yet he is brave, he launches 

Where bees their honey brew, 

He knows the yellow haunches 

Of all that clover crew. 

They would not harm him, for they ken 

He is a friendly denizen, 

A prince of the masonic throng 

To which the hyacinths belong. 



37 



MY BOY 

I like to dwell upon him, 

My Boy, so fair and slim; 

Serenest faith and beauty 

Have found a home in him. 

I mean not he is never wild, 

Nor fails the erring of a child, 

But that his soul's in clean accord 

With harmonies straight from the Lord, 



38 



THE MAGIC MOMENT 

I looked on the fair blue sky, 

I looked on thee, my child; 
And all life's madness and mystery 

With my heart were reconciled. 

Thine eyes had the heavens' gleam, 

Thy form had an angel grace, 
A blanching beauty beyond dream 

Transfigured thy childish face. 

And the wildflowers at my feet 

Their early incense swung; 
Life was incomparably sweet 

And sacred and unsung. 

The silent airs grew chill, 

The leaves lay tranced and white, 
Then a wave of awakening broke with a thrill 

Of strange and sapphire light; 

And the crystalline colours that bar 
Sad thoughts shone upon the plain, 

My dream faded out like a star 

When the day wanders back again. 

I held thee by the hand, 

We needed no longer grope, 

39 



THE MAGIC MOMENT 

A glory was lying over the land 
Of nature and love and hope. 

Which made me the minstrel of morn, 

A minstrel no longer blind, 
I had looked in the grotto where faith is born 

That flowers in human kind. 



40 



A CRY OF MERCURY, 
MESSENGER TO HADES 

I could not dally, 

I dared not wait, 
Ever too early 

And too late. 

They snatched him from me — 

The boy so fair. 
They wove in threads 

Of his golden hair ; 

In blood their fingers 

Deep-rooted stained; 
And over his beauty — 

So godlike veined — 

They drew the curses 

Of sin and death, 
And threw the fire 

In his sweet breath, 

And crooned in evil ; 

And killed his hope, 
And bade me for ever 

In darkness grope, 

If I could not lead them 
To bitterer things! 

41 



A CRY OF MERCURY 

Till I grew like a comet 
On terrible wings 

And strake them to silence ! 

But ah! 'twas all; 
I rise in the heavens 

Only to fall. 

I could not dally, 

I dared not wait — 
Ever too early, 

And too late. 



42 



VENETIAN 

for Venice, Venice! 
Od'rous damp Venetian, 
Palaces and bridges, 
Tintoretto, Titian. 

Every artist's spirit 

Longs for graceful Venice — 

If no ship invite me, 

1 will steal a pinnace. 

Sail across th' Atlantic — 
'Twixt the Rocks Herculean- 
Holding still to Eastward 
On a sea cerulean. 

I will thread Messina 
To a classic ocean, 
Plashing round Apulia 
With a faery motion. 

Soft! the Adriatic 
Trembles into being. 
See ye not sweet Venice, 
Whither I am fleeing, 

In the feath'ry distance? 
Now 'tis clearer, fuller — 

43 



VENETIAN 

Look, my mainsail quivers, 
Heavier grows with colour, 

Red and brown and golden, 
While the vapours gather 
Lovingly like children 
Round the sea, their father. 

Blithe Apollo fills them 
With deep moods and cravings 
Richer in their fragrance 
Than old Persian ravings; 

Richer in their fragrance — 
And I drift uncaring 
Whither group the fishers 
After their seafaring ; 

Near the green giardino 
Where the wavelets lapping 
On the weed strewn scala 
Send my soul a-napping, 

And I wake and find, ah — 
Where O where is Venice? 
Where the steeples shimm'ring 
Where the sails, the pinnace? 



44 



LAY OF THE MIST 

O sea mist, spectrally steeping 

In argent the amber sand, 
The waves in a mesmeric sleeping 

Reveal thy enchanter's hand. 

Pale violet hues in the making 
Drift idly on currents unseen ; 

'Tis the hour of blest unawaking 
From vision life — silver, serene. 

And I stand here repelled from the spaces 

Of unpeopled azure above, 
To the wiles and allurement of faces 

Of sweet marine shapes that I love. 



45 



PETALS 

The breakers burst amain 
Like orient flowers white, 
Wondrous chrysanthemums 
Op'ning for my delight. 

Their petals stream and wave 
Upon the breathing beach 
And lie there and die there 
And bend there and beseech. 

Their fragrance overcomes me, 
I screen my mortal face 
In fear from such mad beauty 
And life and hope and grace. 



46 



SHORE TONES 

The fisher sails are floating 

In the blue evening calm, 

And I sense the breath of still waters 

On my torn spirit like balm. 

The southwind melts into fragrance, 
The hushed clouds fold in their flight, 
The sea birds sink in the heavens 
And glimmer beyond sight: 

And with them vanish serenely 
All human passions and pain, 
The world spins, a shimmering planet 
Adrift on the skiey main. 

Ah God, with what joys of Thy tankard 
Teem I entranced here 
And plunge my soul deep in the twilight 
And chant on the waste sand clear ! 

When day fails, and love fails, and striving 
Ah, then 'tis the hour for a spell 
Afar from the haunts of a people, 
Apart — where the strange waves well. 



47 



REFRAIN 

Gems of ocean drape the trees, 
Briny pearls are gleaming, 
Phantom Hollands dot the leas, 
Hushed be all life's melodies, 
While the earth lies dreaming. 

Heigh-ho ! sing low ! 
Lovers' tide must fail and flow. 

Youth is here but youth will pass; 
Noon must come and after, 
Twilight and the shadows mass, 
Twilight when with life alas ! 
Love grows pale and laughter. 

Heigh-ho ! sing low ! 
Deeper secrets none may know. 



48 



THE TIDE BELL 

Evening comes, the lonely land 

Darkens with the wave, 
Sea fowl strut the wrinkled sand 
And the mariner's grave 
Lists the tide-bell toll 
By sunken shoal. 

Evening comes and breezes die, 

The marsh odours wake ; 
One by one melodiously 

The little hushed waves break ; 
Silence spreads her dole — 
Peace, drowned soul! 



49 



VIGIL 

A mist is rising heavy and gray- 
Out of the heaving deep, 

The subdued southern billows sway- 
In a strange phantom sleep. 

My heart is like the wave this day — 
Would neither laugh nor weep ; 

Yet the one longing I dreamed away 
Doth a strange vigil keep. 



50 



THE SHOALS 

O ceaseless chaunt 
Of the sweet strange sea; 
Why dost thou haunt 
This heart of me? 

Oft have I heard, 

From the lonely shoals, 

A single bird 

With her sibylline trolls 

Waken the stark land far and near; 

But now all is silent as with fear; 

And a dream of love's tragedies 

Comes to me 

From the tost and tempest-strewn 

Sweet strange sea. 



51 



TO THE SEA 

O Psalmist Sea, I wander long 
Responsive to thy choral song 

Of rest and eventide ; 
Thy lessening billows lunge and sweep 
Dim and majestic shores, then sleep — 

How still the world and wide! 

Something interrogates my heart, 
Of thy large solitude a part, 

A moving shape like Death; 
Yet Life is tenfold Life I swear 
When I my wildered temples bare 

To thy refreshing breath. 

Oft as a child I used to roam 
Thy sands in the mysterious gloam, 

Whilst thou in loftier mood 
Didst deal heroic nourishment 
To one reared gently yet who spent 

Vain hours for his soul's food. 

Even so early I did learn 

The kindness in thy humors stern, 



52 



TO THE SEA 

Thy grandeur made me grand ; 
I feared almost to look on thee 
While thou didst smite remorselessly 

The Titan we call Land. 

So great a creature made me start — 
Oh God how loudly clanged my heart 

One morn when thou wast mute ! 
It seemed the very world must cease 
Her rolling and perpetual peace 

Rise to some heavenly lute. 

A magic mist lay over all, 
The wonder clouds in carnival 

Sent strange hues o'er my mind. 
I wept upon thy silent shore 
And loving found in thee far more 

Than I in man could find. 

And now, albeit those days are banned, 
I bear me on thine ancient strand 

With pride, as when a boy 
I ran beside thy billows bright 
Whose heritage of life and light 

Naught human may destroy. 



53 



WINTRY SHORE 

Sweet recreation by the wintry sea 
To wander as the mood will oft invite, 
When colours roseate fall silvery 
On the pure limpid shells and pebbles white ; 
When weeds lie prisoned by the freezing foam, 
And minnows dart in the translucent shallows ; 
And broken reeds are stiff 'ning in the loam, 
And wild birds shriek about the briny fallows. 
Why sky is clear and northwind biteth keen, 
Dull eyes grow bright, pale cheeks turn flow'ry 

pink, — 
When life-fruit hangeth ripe, and I to glean 
Need but the moment on my young love think ; 
Then glints within my heart a joy so golden 
That Silence steals what were to speech beholden. 



54 



SANCTUARY 

There is a temple in thy face, but O 
I shall not name thy brow an altar nor 
Thine eyes pure sainted windows ; I adore 
Too fondly, deeply, ever to bestow 
Images on thy sacred beauty. No, 
Let me but worship without knowing why, — 
As 'neath the benison of sea or sky 
We stand bareheaded with all veins aglow. 
O what were human life without devotion? 
Without the blessed time when Self does fail 
Silently like a shadow, when an ocean 
Of sublime meaning tides the naked heart 
From love's eternity, and world, grown pale, 
Kneels murm'ring while unworthy dreams de- 
part? 



55 



A PRELUDE 

O Poesy, my refuge and delight ! 

My sanctuary steeped in hallowed fire ; 
Thee shall I not approach with coarse desire, 

Nor trivial temper nor satiric spite ; 
But with a heart bowed lowly in thy sight, 

Kneel and be thankful and rise dimly grand 
And laud the Priest-Creator who hath planned 

Art's many temples with illustrious might. 
Then if my song be sweet in godlike ears, 

Sweet unto them that know harmonious sound, 
O never let it wholly to the world — 

After the soul has suffered and been hurled 
Thro' a life's fury, drowned with vexing tears, 

If yearns the beauty of thy cloistered bound. 



56 



THE SONG 

The song that burns in my bosom 
Shall be a song of you ; 
Sweet and with no strange fancies- 
But simply-toned and true. 

A world of figure and fancy 
And strange wild loveliness, 
Could only cover thy beauty, 
Make my song's beauty less. 



57 



FROM AN ORCHARD 

The oriole sings in deep pure notes 

Unhindered and unchary, 
The god put a pearl in both your throats, 

And in your spirit, Mary. 
Ah, thus to listen 

While rapt eyes gleam and glisten; 
To float far out on that ethereal lake 
And dream of dying for your too lovely sake. 

And yet, dear Mary, I would not die, 

Far liefer would I cherish 
That part of this life's infinity 

Which you will not let perish. 
Your young eyes dancing, 

Their lashes upward glancing, 
Lure me with hope and joy beyond the years, 
Till wisdom smiles, and love has dried all tears. 



58 



NOCTURN 

O Lady, I behold this night 
So calm, so clear, so star-excelling! 
And all my loneliness takes flight, 
The loneliness that grew past telling, 
While wandered I adrift, or worse, 
In the vast loveless universe. 

O Lady, I inhale this night, 

Its spicy fragrances indwelling, 

Each cluft of dark and tuft of light 

A fount of incense softly welling 

Into the torrent of my dreams 

That from thy limpid influence streams. 

O Lady, hearken to this night 
The strange sad music, soul-impelling 
From grove and lawn; and to requite 
My patient heart and still the knelling 
Of phantom fears that come sans choice, 
Yield the pure magic of thy voice. 



59 



RECOGNITION 

Mary, thy singing was to me 
First a surprise, then melody, 
Then the delight that scorns the years. 
Then love and Christ's own tears. 



60 



PRESENCE 

Now countless visions throng to me, 
Her eyes and lips are turned to mine, 
Her face is like a song to me, 
Her breath is thyme and honey wine. 
The haunting colours come and go, 
They melt me with their tender throe, 
The fountains of my being glow 
From the heart. 

Long have I waited — long to thee, 
Thou too my love, O trembling bird! 
Fear not, no shallow wrong to thee 
Shall zephyred be by act or word. 
Thou art my woods, my flowers and sky, 
My inland waters whence reply 
Th' enraptured stars, and where winds die 
And dreams start. 



61 



SONGS OF A SUMMER DEPARTED 



GO 

Go — for the year is past the blowing May, 
Go — for the season reddens, sighs and hearkens, 
Go — not a hopeful joy can we bid stay, 
Even our memory's golden dims and darkens, 
Dims and darkens. 

Go — for the summer is not longer here, 

The wild birds fume, the air breathes autumn 

dangers, 
Go before life has grown too cheaply dear, 
Laugh and depart while love still holds us 

strangers — 
Holds us strangers. 



65 



SOLITUDE 

A red leaf on the bush 
Enjoins me to be mute ; 

the enraptured hush 
While falls the fruit! 

The laborers in field 
Are silent and more bent 
Scything the golden yield 
With grim content. 

A shadow steeps the plain, 
A strange and umber light 
Proclaims the coming rain — 
The men take flight. 

1 do not run, I grip 

My feet in the brown earth, 
Scorn is upon my lip — 
Scorn mixed with mirth. 



I stand as one who stands 
Heedless of storms' affray, 
Who has known seas and lands 
Here — and away; 



66 



SOLITUDE 

Who has known autumn, spring, 
And love and blinding tears, 
And hopes that vaguely cling 
Beyond the years. 



67 



LEAVES 

The leaves, the leaves, how they rustle and start ! 
I could bind them and wind them about my heart ; 
For a memory dear is enshrined in the leaf 
Of a joy too vivid and blessed and brief. 

We fared the far roads and the fragrant paths 
And the sunways sweet of the woodland swaths, 
And life was too fair ! Now alone in the rain, 
I pass through the weeping woods ever again. 



68 



SUMMER 

The turf is green and the sky is clear, 

The sweet abundant summer is here, 

The summer for which I have hoped and cared 

And over the endless Arctic fared. 

The summer to which the spring in a stream 

Has flowed like a tributary dream; 

The summer, the height, the long years' crown, 

Ere the clouds bring wet and the leaves are down. 

O Season, if I have loved thee well, 
And love — 'tis that thou bringest a spell 
Of the old time pride in shady glen, 
Where laughing girls and staid young men 
Joyed in the depth of thy mingled sweet ; 
O Summer, darling time, these feet 
Have wandered many a mile since then! 
Have wandered many a mile — and I, 
Gazing upon thy gentle sky, 
Wonder if I can be the same 
As when I never hymned thy name, 
But knew thee only as the truth; 
As when indeed thy golden light, 
Translated to the heart of youth, 
Told Beauty's advent — not her flight. 



69 



AUTUMN 

When forest leaves are lying sere 
And dull mist hangeth over mere, 
Then speed I to the fields around, 
And linger by a mossy mound 
Where she doth lie, where she doth lie, 
And O it is a dreary sky. 

No birds make music in the trees ; 
Half -naked branches in the breeze 
Sing a low dirge ful monotone — 
I wander o'er the leas alone 
No prey to melancholy fears, 
But O it is a world of tears. 



70 



VILLAGE SCENE 

Adown the early village scene 

I pass like a spirit thing; 
Children are romping on the green 

Before the school bells ring. 

I stand beneath an aged tree 

Where I was wont to stand; 
But now it does not shelter me, 

I am so tall and grand. 

The clouds are flying as fast they flew 

This day agone twelve years, 
And the earth was green and the sky was blue, 

But they moved me not to tears. 

O I have ranged afar, I feel 

The world is in despite ; 
O Love ! O Heaven ! Let me kneel 

On the brink of concealing night. 



71 



MY AUTUMN SONG 

My autumn song, my autumn song, 
I shall sing it, but sing it not long, 

For winter is prowling nigh! 
And gone is the summer I thought so sweet ; 
And gone the young wildflowers under my feet, 

And the warm and windless sky. 

Behold, behold, each leaf to the fold 

Is hastened in purple and brown and gold — - 

In glory and glory's stain! 
Darkness is hovering low on the deep, 
The whole earth is crying for rest and sleep 

From the travail of fruit and grain. 

In the late time sere, in the ripening year 
Our lives are possessed of a mystical fear, 

And we draw the sullen breath ; 
For all around us is Beauty in flight, 
And the heart of noon grows heavy as night, 

In the dream of wintry death. 



72 



APART 

When apples tumble to the glist'ning sod, 
And grapes hang frosty on a tremulous stem, 
When leaves are cushioned o'er where late we 

trod, 
And fir trees flaunt a silvery diadem, 
When mists lie over fallow, and the kine 
Seem ghostly wanderers, and Joy, long fled, 
Wings whispering in still odours from the pine, 
And heart for heart's release cried famished; 
Then, then thou comest, O reluctant Child, 
Thou sprite of winds and waters, silent grown. 
And I forgive that sunny April smiled, 
Or that the grain lies garnered erstwhile sown, 
A newborn Joy rises from all Regret, 
Like Love from Pity, too sad to forget. 



73 



SONG OF TWILIGHT 

Joy I was dreaming of 

Fades with the noonday rose, 
Hope of life-warming love 

With the late swallows goes. 

Bright forms and colors gay- 
Pass with the evening light, 

Life, love and hope, and day, 
End all in night. 



74 



REFUGE 

Where flowers singly bloom 
There do I lonely pass, 

The foliage in gloom 

Shadows the waning grass. 

One bird with plaintive grace 
Breathes summer's final sigh ; 

Long have we sought this place, 
My lonely heart and I. 



75 



TO THE EARTH 

Untiring One who searchest the deep skies 
Year after year — nor heeding moon nor star ; 
Great Silent Heart that thro' the long centuries 
Hast held thy fire hidden ; always far 
From him thou lovest yet no nearer hate — 
Tell me, was ever life so desolate, 
Was ever such inexorable fate 
As thine, eternally thy course to run, 
Seeming to approach, yet never nearing one 
Who lighteth all thy lonely way — the sun? 



76 



LOVE OVER LIFE 

thou my triumph and my sore defeat ! 
My wall of darkness and my well of light ; 
As poets say, "Thine absence bringeth night, 
Only thy presence makes the dull world sweet." 
But I say more: Thou comest to complete 
My innermost design, my life's one plan, 
While motioning to me how small a span 

My spirit wings may traverse when they beat. 
Thou art my inspiration and my poise, 
My dove of calm, my seraph lit with storm, 
The twilight-star where merge my griefs and 
joys. 

1 cannot image life without thee; no, 
Nor heart's ideal of passion in any form, 
Nor height of heaven nor descent of woe. 



77 



LOVE OVER DEATH 

My poetry was dead — now shall it rise ; 
My spirit was asleep — now does it wake ; 
My heart was lying still, now heart could break 
If 'cross the sunlight from thy lips or eyes 
One shadow sought to move. I have grown wise, 
If love be wisdom; young, if love be youth; 
From our love summit of communing truth 
We may disdain the base world and its spies. 
Yea, let them seek to part us ! — Men may press 
Our bodies to the grave, but we shall mingle, 
Clasp arms, kiss deep, in ways, lives, yet un- 
known: 
Eternity can spring from one caress — 
Ay, when adrift, despairing, I could single 
Thy form through the waste universe alone. 



78 



LOVE BEYOND HOPE 

Dear, when I came we were not happy ; no, 

Who could be happy with so heavy heart ? 

I fled thy gaze, and looked on thee apart, 

I could not say one word — now must I go. 

Once was ebbtide, then the vast overflow 

O'ermastered me and flooded praise or blame; 

Now I adore and image thee, thy name 

Is holiest wine, I drink it and I glow! 

Yes, we must part! On this delusive earth, 

Of happiness bears not a single bud, 

That is not starved or schemed away and slain; 

O there are battlefields of unshed blood 

More mad than those of France. And death and 

birth 
Are one, and all but love dies — love and pain! 



79 



MESSAGE 

Blest altar of my spirit, when the light 
Of day is done, and one by one appear 
The tinted clouds; the autumn atmosphere, 
Heavy with fallen rain and falling night, 
Gives me what vexing comfort! As a blight 
This absence chilleth all our transient gladness; 
First a half day's content, then months of sadness, 
A torturing solitude for soul's one sight ! 
Here let me place my offering — I crave 
Thy lips, but, chance upon this quivering stream, 
Grief may impart one message to the ocean ; 
Gone is thy person — gone the blest hour of 

dream; 
But O, inspirer of my hopes, be brave, 
Trusting in time untried and heart's devotion. 



80 



HOME 

Queenly stranger from afar, 

I met thee 'neath a northern star ; 

And since that hour, where thou must be 

Becomes the only home for me. 

This my serene, my native land 
Repels me like a foreign strand; 
Lonely I linger, bid me home 
To thee across the Northern foam. 



81 



THE DISTANT ONE 

Over the sea, 
The boundless sea afar, 
There breathes my darling, 
Bides my tender star. 

Lonely she lingers 
A-dream in my dark sky, 
Others have risen 
In beauty and gone by ; 

But she stays on — stays on 
And lights my sombre room 
And yields me hope of sunrise 
After gloom. 



82 



KATWIK SANDS 

I met her where vapours lie cold 

On the shore where the sails they were red, 

My love I had never told 

But she knew in our lives it was said. 

The dunes rose high and along 
Ran hillocks with sprays of green, 
And the gray dykes sunken and strong 
Where the current ran white between. 

O the pranks of that strange North light 
With its silvery gossamers ! 
The scent of that Netherland night 
When my swelling heart met hers ! 

We passed to a lonely tower, 
A ghost it loomed to us both ; 
Then the dark swung heavy and dour 
The moon failed — we parted loth. 

She hastened, my love, to her land, 
(I strolled to the England pier) — 
And no one was ever so grand 
And noble and hapless and dear. 



83 



SCHELDE BANKS 

Along the banks of Schelde 
I roam with heart and brow depressed, 
The breathing banks of Schelde — 
And I find no rest. 

I only find what wrings my mind 
With beauties like a haunting tune, 
Her form so fair, her lithe arms bare 
And the lights of June. 

I find her as she walked the green 
That morn, the swift stream either side. 
A fisher fleet spun gaily past — 
Brabant was in its pride. 

I spoke, how sweet and strangely grand 
Though tragic tinted 'twas to me 
Thus to look out from Schelde-land 
With her upon the sea. 

She answered, but the accents fine 
That from her brave lips fell 
Are sacred to her soul and mine, 
And Solitude's as well. 



84 



I SAW THE DAY 

I saw the day come in, 
I saw the reapers reap ; 
The birds with piping din 
Rose from the dells of sleep. 

And love and life begin; 
The wine-lit maples wave, 
But thee I may not win 
This side the grave. 



85 



ALONE 

So startling white, O February moon ! 

Can thy dark home appal thee to such ways, 

That thou with heaven's glory on thy face, 

Wanderest in dejection? Can the boon 

Of solitude be turned to pain so soon? 

Has grief consumed thine ampler, fuller rays, 

Or, tell me, seekest thou some purer place 

Beyond the wave where rest thy silv'ry shoon? 

Form incomparable! I gaze on thee 

In calm so deep, meseems as if thou wast 

My bridal shape of spirituality, 

Some beauteous being rendered from the Past, 

In whose inviolate countenance I see 

Life's joy and sorrow mould in one at last. 



86 



THE LAKE OF THE SEA 

Boscombe was English green, 

The Chine had its late summer sheen ; 

Lay Bourne the sun's jewel between. 

There are days when the god doth make 
The Channel more fair than a lake 
Embossed by a Westmoreland brake ; 

When the long gold mysterious strips 
With their Lorelei vapours and tips 
Allure to the rocks and the rips ; 

When the sun flays his tortured beams 
Through perilous rainbow streams 
And the life-fluid pants and teems. 

There are days when the god doth make 
The Channel more fair than a lake, 
And then 'tis the hour to awake ; 

Where the land about far Torquay 
Which slopes to this Lake of the Sea 
Is nestling and fair as a bee; 

When the atmosphere stifles and swoons 
And the image death white of the dunes 
Breaks into an hundred moons ; 

87 



THE LAKE OF THE SEA 

When the echo of frenzied wings 

To sinister child fear clings 

And the Manche-minstrel tunes his strings ; 

When the ships floating over by France 
Are ghosts on a stream of mischance — 
They will vanish at a glance. 

O, see that envenomed spire 

Of cloud sweepings caught on fire 

Dissolve in mere mist and mire ! 

that dead spot in the deep 

Where never a flame can creep, 
But blackness shall deathless sleep ; 

Then far on the face of the shawl, 
Like an ant over fringe and all, 
The poor Channel steamer crawl; 

And know that our lives — O hark ! 
Are less than the phosphor spark 
That dances in the dark. 



88 



THOU WHO CREATEST 

Thou who createst down on the dove, 
Thou too didst fashion the voice of my Love. 

Thou who didst fashion the stillness like death 
When her song it ceased and we held our breath. 

And the shape called Parting came quivering in — 
The stealth of him made our hearts to spin. 

O the eve grew dark and the world gaped wide 
And the twain of us panted there crucified ! 

The ghost of my grief found a home in her face 
And we stared out together on endless space — 

A space shorn of sunset or maple branch 

To replenish the spirit and keep soul staunch. 

Thou who createst down on the dove, 

Thou too didst fashion the voice of my Love. 

Though my life with her and her voice for me 
Belong to the blessings that cannot be. 



89 



TO A YOUNG WOMAN SINGING 

child, for such thou seemest to me 
Who singest as no others sing! 

To make love live in melody — 
It is a heavenly thing. 

And when thou singest, maiden rare, 

1 feel — ah when thou singest, I feel 
Beauty and truth and love and prayer 
In madness o'er me steal ! 

That strain again, those measures soft 
Revive with peace my warring sprite ; 
Thus lift me Sweet! bear me aloft 
From solitude and night. 



90 



NIGHT PIECE 

Dear one, may all blest visions 
Hallow thy silver sleep ; 
Love is a wakeful potion — 
I have drunk deep. 

I have drunk deep of the fountains 
Of star shine and darkness and dreams 
And the fragrance which sends one floating 
Down infinite streams 

Of longing I cannot fathom, 
But strange they tide and sweet 
And fierce and serene and undying 
And incomplete. 

O we are wed for ever 

If ever souls were wed! 

That linen is chaster than heaven 

Where falls thy head. 



91 



STARS 

Music I hear, immortal bars 
Descending pure from heaven; 
Notes from the solitary stars — 
The harp stars numbering seven. 

But O the want, the wintry pain, 

The lone lament past telling, 

As though they ranged the world in vain 

For one sweet voice upswelling! 



92 



WAR VERSES 



THE BELGIAN WOMAN'S PRAYER 

The leaves they are purple with blood this year, 
And the wine press is heavy with grief and fear, 
While the starved wind shrills up the naked plain, 
The insensate form of that loved terrain. 
O the passions of men are unsheathed! Life is 

cheap, 
And our wave of lament drowns the dirge of 

the deep, 
Crying woe for Louvain, Liege and their kind ; 
For the heart of the Hun is brutish and blind. 

Now winter is round us, my home is a pile 
Of stones on whose ivy the sun used to smile ; 
My hearth is a ruin, my daughters are — fled ! 
My husband and sons — are they bleeding or 

dead? 
Christ God, hear my prayer, we were faithful of 

old; 
Then spare me my days, take me not to Thy fold 
Till the hour that is Heaven and rest to my mind 
When the heart of the Hun my rifle shall find ! 



95 



THE ZEP AND THE AERO 

Relate your exploits, cried the Zeppelin, 

Afar from the lordly battle's din, 

Where the brave in the trenches bleed to win. 

At first I essayed, sang the Aeroplane 
To gather news for my country's gain 
From Britain's fleet on the misty main. 

But a keenly directed cannon shot 
From an insolent craft, that lay like a blot 
On the blue, just missed and I tarried not; 

But fled to our lines in the heart of France- — 
'Twas a marvel to view our ranks advance 
Where the fair plains echoed the sky's expanse. 

My duty was finding range for our guns ; 
How I split my sides when our knowing ones 
Hit a convent scatt'ring a covey of nuns ! 

But the farcical time that endures in my dreams, 
The incident tickling our army to screams, 
Was to see the old temple go toppling at Rheims. 

I confess, at my height, with the engine and sails, 
The rising and plunging 'mid vaporous gales, 
I lost the stained glass and statue details ; 

96 



THE ZEP AND THE AERO 

But the thing was rare sport and a lesson beside 
To the decadent French, though it can't be denied 
Their artillery gained from the wound to their 
pride. 

Then once I recall how I swooped like a vulture 
To a field where the dead were receiving sepul- 
ture 
And spoiled their last sleep for our Kaiser and 
Culture. 

Your fate has been kind, cried the Zeppelin-mass, 
His huge shape inflating with ego and gas, 
You've rounded your function, fulfilled your 
class. 

My duty lies far from the shrapnel storm, 
I waste my good shells on no uniform, 
Apart my mission, unique my norm. 

To open cities I wend my flight, 

Convoyed by Prussia's ally, the night, 

And wake them to dread with my ghastly light. 

Then I seek out a haunt even Uhlans would 
spare, 

97 



THE ZEP AND THE AERO 

Where the gray heads collect in some hospital 

square 
Or the citizen wounded are wont to pair, 

And loose my explosives upon their hives ; 
To blot out a few so-called innocent lives 
Best argues how militarism thrives. 

It's becoming a hackneyed art to toss 
Our bombs on the plodding old Red Cross ; 
I only do so when at a loss. 

To surprise poor peasants in peaceful dells 
Or the village priest at his sanctus bells 
Or a maid drawing water, my bosom swells 

At our pranks in the pretty Belgianland 
Where the dumme people make a stand 
Against Gott's own anointed band. 

In London how my good bombs roared 
And razed both school and dwelling, gored 
Weak women and children for the lord. 

And later — his laughter made him spin — 
Till the Aero warned, O Zeppelin 
Take heed, pull taut your outer skin. 



98 



THE ZEP AND THE AERO 

Ach nein, the merry old worm replied, 
Then puffed out perilously wide, 
Wrinkled, burst forth, collapsed, and died. 

They fetched the fallen hero home 
Past aero shed to Zeppelin 'drome, 
In Diisseldorf by Rhenish foam. 

Where heaped with standards in the sun 

And iron crosses by the ton, 

With sermons on the deed well done. 

Hie jacet, carved on his hangar hearse 
In Potsdam manufactured verse 
"Though war was cruel he made it worse." 

Then plain, ye aeros, o'er peaceful mere; 

Dirigibles, drop the petrol tear 

Where your master sleeps on his German bier! 



99 



THE APPEAL OF SATAN 



ON THE BANISHMENT OF THE BELGIANS 

The Devil to the Kaiser cried: 
My kingly, cultured friend, 
Our comradeship of old shall bide 
Unto the sulphurous end. 

But think you it is loyal quite 
That all folk thee acclaim, 
Saying, "See Hohenzollern smite 
The fiend at his own game"? 

Am I so hedged about with hymns 
And Sunday-tea conventions, 
That your Boche infamy bedims 
My very best inventions? 

I will concur your style has tone, 
But still it wakes my ire 
When you appropriate my own 
Chef d'ceuvre, liquid fire; 

And filch it without "will you share" 
Or health drunk in sly chalice, 
As "Here's to Satan my confrere." 
Just "Deutschland iiber Allies !" 

100 



THE APPEAL OF SATAN 

Far worse indeed ; for first you snipe 
My stuff — say, poison gases— 
And smear it with the Potsdam stripe 
As yours before the masses ; 

Then thank my stern old enemy 
Who strides in halls celestial ; 
Such conduct is undevilish, aye 
'Tis unsatanic, bestial. 

There glints a chivalry down here 
Among the dusky legions; 
We rather dread when you appear 
You'll Prussianize the regions. 

True, you've surpassed me in design — 
Instance the U boat mania, — 
The envious chills slipped down my spine 
When you thugged the Lusitania; 

Still it recalled my youthful spark 
The licking flames, the mangling, 
The sudden violence, light and dark, 
The individual strangling. 

I might have planned it, hate-possessed, 
As you have planned sans scruple, 

101 



THE APPEAL OF SATAN 

I like to play 'twas at my hest 
You dreamed it, lieber pupil! 

But when it comes to slaving off 
A people in vast hordes, 
Egyptian-wise, my horns I doff 
To thee, great lords of lords ! 

I have done evil, stirred up strife, 
Made sorrow, killed out bliss, 
But noch nie in mine ancient life 
Have I attained to this. 

Here, take my place mid fire and shade ! 
Spoil Hell; I'll reign instead 
O'er Europe, that your hand has made 
First Empire of the Dead. 



102 



THE MAN 

Fill the bumpers brimming high 
And drink we to our native land: 
There should be mighty harmony 
To drown a pledge so grand: 
We stand by the Atlantic shore 
Where patriot surges plunge and roar 
Since our first fathers from the Nore 
Set foot upon the strand. 

We have had men among us, yea, 
From Washington, the grandly calm, 
From Lincoln, of the human way, 
Whose words were like the psalm ; 
From Hamilton, our statutes' sire, 
Brave Lee, erect as saintly spire, 
And Grant, who quenched the killing fire 
That swept from pine to palm. 

We have had men and, God be thanked, 
Men have we still while Roosevelt stays ! 
In song and screed he will be ranked 
With great ones of heroic days. 
The dawnlike splendour of his mind 
Stirs the whole camp of humankind, 
Inspires the slothful, wakes the blind 
That struggle through the haze. 



103 



THE MAN 

Then fill the bumpers not with wine, 
But brightness from our native streams ; 
Rich is our land, a fire divine 
Upon our billowing banner gleams. 
While souls of men like these, unmarred 
By greed, or glory evil-starred, 
Sweep o'er us, stoutly may we guard 
The Empire of our Dreams. 



104 



KITCHENER 

Kitchener of Khartoum is gone; he's spent 

The Sirdar, K. of K. 

He died just as he lived, this soldier went 

The good old hero way. 

He lies mute 'neath the wave, as hitherto 

He lived mute in our world. 

Questioning not what Destiny could do 

Or whither he be hurled ; 

So long as work went on and on and on, 

And Duty ordered meant that Duty done. 

Kitchener of Khartoum is dead, the man 

Who'd neither break nor bend, 

Who rode down every traverse he began 

Unto the cruel end. 

The man who raised up Empires from the sand, 

Brought life back to the shard, 

Who dealt out Persian justice with a hand 

That could strike swift and hard; 

This man who seldom spoke and never smiled 

Is past, his eye explores a greater wild. 

Kitchener of Khartoum is gone, he stands 

Silent among the dead, 

This chieftain who to conquest of new lands 

Led on the British red. 

Upon man's final Expedition vast 

He's off and I believe 

105 



KITCHENER 

All that a staunch soul, freed of earth at last, 
Can splendidly achieve, 
So the tall Sirdar's, ever in advance 
Will march to triumph through that grim Ex- 
panse. 



THE END 



106 









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